A Tale of Two Werewolves
by LurkerLa
Summary: Horror AU for Halloween. Elizabeth has a secret: she's a werewolf. John has a secret: he's a werewolf. Someone else has a secret, too: he's hunting them. ShepWeir
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The characters of Stargate: Atlantis and Stargate: SG-1 do no belong to me and no copyright infringemet is intended.

Spoilers: Well, the existence of the show, I guess.

Pairing: Shep/Weir

Rating: T

Author's Note: Yeah, so I'm now addicted to writing this stuff. This was inspired by Vixein in the Sheppard/Weir thread at Gateworld, who (long story short) remarked on werewolves, which sparked a Halloween horror AU discussion. Hope I kept them more or less in character. I'm still fairly new at this, so constructive criticism is appreciated. No beta, so all mistakes are mine.

* * *

It was taking all of John Sheppard's willpower not to fidget. He sat in the lobby, watching the comings and goings of White House staff and aides, fisting his hands together to keep from pulling at the sleeves of his uniform. 

He hated D.C. at the best of times, and this, the day before the full moon, was hardly the best of times. But when one's Commander-in-Chief requested one's presence, one didn't refuse.

John was idly watching a congressman and staffer trading veiled insults and counting in binary on his fingers when he noticed her. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and he felt a prickling all along his skin. Before she had even entered the room, his entire attention was focused on the hallway to his left.

She strode into the lobby a moment later, anger written all over her face. She breezed past the guard, then froze, her eyes flying to his.

John hissed in a breath. Her eyes locked onto his, and he could have sworn he felt an electric shock. It was like nothing he'd ever experienced before – a feeling that given just a few moments more, she would know all his darkest secrets and he hers.

Her expression had traded anger for shock, and she took a half step towards him. Before her foot had connected with the floor, however, an aide bumped her side, and she glanced down, breaking their unnerving gaze. Glancing at him sidelong, she slipped her visitor's pass over her head, and before John could blink, was gone.

_Okay,_ he thought, _that was different_. He didn't have time to dwell, however, before he heard his name and an aide was coming to greet him.

* * *

Elizabeth Weir let her anger carry her through the halls of the west wing of the White House. Her feet navigated the familiar path without conscious direction from her brain, her long stride leaving the poor aide designated to guide her scrambling to catch up. 

How dare they? How _dare_ they? She knew that her anti-military stance was not particularly appreciated by the current administration, but she had never expected them to laugh at her. They'd practically told her to quit worrying her pretty little head about such matters, to leave important things to the menfolk. They'd questioned her right to even enter the realm of politics.

Ha! She knew for a fact she was better educated than at least three of the men in that room. Her linguistic skills far outstripped all of theirs. Five languages, a PhD, and nearly ten years of experience in Washington didn't earn her the right to be taken seriously?

She'd kept smiling, however, hoping that if she were polite, once she'd left they might actually look at the material she'd compiled. It wasn't until she brought up the effects of violence that she reached the last straw.

"And what would a sweet, proper, young lady like yourself know about violence?" Steve Kerrington had drawled, a patronizing smile ghosting across his lips.

A part of her wanted to grab him by his collar, pin him to the wall, and growl into his face. She knew plenty about violence, more than a suit like Steve could ever imagine. Her primal nature was calling her, and as night approached it was getting more difficult to control it. But she'd never given into that nature willingly, and she wouldn't start now, no matter how much she wanted to put him in his place. So, she gathered her dignity, collected her materials, and left.

As she entered the lobby, a sudden awareness – she would have said a scent, except her senses wouldn't be _that_ acute for another few hours – brought her out of her haze of anger. Her eyes swung unerringly to an Air Force officer sitting in a nearby armchair, fiddling with his cuffs and staring back at her.

The connection was instantaneous and disturbing. She felt stripped bare before him and at the same time as if she had nothing to hide from him. An uncontrollable urge caused her to start towards him, but just then someone jostled her. Their gaze was broken, and Elizabeth was released.

Shaken by the encounter, and still raw from her meeting, she escaped from the lobby as quickly as possible. She was unable to erase the image of the man from her mind, however.

* * *

In the suburbs of Virginia, a man in his early to mid forties, greying slightly at the temples, washed his hands in the kitchen sink. Behind him, a couple sat leaning against a blood splattered wall, staring with sightless eyes. The bullet holes in their bodies could not account for the quantity of blood on the floor, however. That had come from their son. 

The man at the sink finished scrubbing his hands, and proceeded to rinse the bloody paintbrush. As he did, his gaze shifted leftward, into the living room, where he had left the body of Mr. and Mrs. Durmon's ten-year-old son, Timothy. He frowned. He hated leaving such a mess behind, but he really didn't have the time to clean up properly. Still, it bothered him to have the toothmarks so readily visible.

Finishing with the paintbrush, he placed it in the drainboard, then walked into the living room. He pulled a blanket off the sofa and draped it over Timothy. There, that was better.

Pausing for a moment, he contemplated the symbols painted in blood on the wall above the boy. This demon was one of the nastier breeds, demanding not just a blood sacrifice, but flesh to feed on as well. The man hated calling on it. But its information had been invaluable. At last he knew why his pets had been so worked up the past few days.

Two werewolves! Male and female! He'd known about the one for years, but left her alone. He had no interest in collecting only a partial set. But now...

Now was the time to act.

Smiling slightly, the man left the house, careful to lock the door behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer etc. in first chapter.

Author's Note: Yeah, I don't know why Jack showed up in this, but for some reason he wanted to be here. This chapter's pretty normal, but I should warn you it starts getting kinda weird after this. I meant for it to be scary, but apparently my brain can't manage that.

Also - I know the title stinks, but I was in a rush to get it up last night and couldn't think of a good one.

* * *

As John left the White House, he couldn't help but feel anxious. His meeting with the President had been brief – a "thank you" for his service on his last mission, a minute or two of small talk, and a "thank you, Mr. President" – but then one of the assistants, a pretty brunette with wide blue eyes, had latched onto him. She'd insisted on getting him something from the mess, and had followed him out to the lobby to continue talking to him. 

John had met her kind before – girls who saw the uniform before anything else – but was somewhat surprised to find one inside the White House. Still, he flirted back, trying in part to shake his startling encounter from earlier that day. Playing the charming flyboy was second nature to him, and he carried on without much thought, until his brain belatedly recognized the words "dinner" and "tonight."

"I can't," he blurted out.

The girl looked surprised. She'd thought this was going well! "Oh, well, then..."

John realized how rude he'd sounded, and immediately started backtracking. "It's not that I don't want to," and here he had to glance surreptitiously at her nametag, "Jenna. I'd love to, but I already had plans with an old buddy." In this he wasn't lying. Whenever he had to come to D.C. he stayed with an old friend who had moved to the area a few years ago. Of course, his "plans" for this evening involved getting locked up so he didn't hurt anyone, instead of the usual beers and pizza.

She brightened some, and John, never liking to see a woman in distress (and as a result having been on more disastrous dates than he could count) found himself inviting her out for lunch the next day. They chatted for a few minutes more, before Jenna seemed to realize that she actually had work to do, and John finally was able to leave.

As a result, the visit to the White House had taken far longer than he'd expected. Now he had only a little over an hour until moonrise, and it would take nearly that long to make his way to his friend's house and secure himself to the wall.

When he burst into Jack O'Neill's house 58 minutes later, the older man was waiting for him in the hall. "Thought you weren't going to make it," he said.

"Thought so myself," John admitted, shedding his coat and shirt in the hall. He nearly tripped on the steps to the basement as he tried to take of his shoes, but soon he was down to nothing but his boxers. Jack followed.

"You going out?" John asked, positioning himself in front of the brick wall.

Jack nodded. The only one of John's friends to know his secret, Jack sometimes felt he should be there. But he had tried once, and learned that when the transformation happened, nothing of his friend remained. It had been painful and disturbing to watch, and since then, if John happened to be visiting Jack at this time of the month, the older man went out for the night and didn't return until sunrise. It was easier on both of them – this way John didn't have to worry about hurting a man who'd always been there for him.

As Jack secured the chains around John's wrists and ankles, sliding them several times through the rings he'd affixed to the wall for just that purpose, John once again cursed his condition.

It was supposed to be a milk run. A routine tour through Europe, attached to a four-star general. Part of the same detail, Jack had instantly befriended John, recognizing in the younger man his own irreverence and tendency to bend the rules. They'd been on leave one night, heading home from a local bar, when it happened. John had been hit by a bundle of muscle and fur, felt a sting on his arm, and before either he or Jack could do more than reach for their guns, it was gone.

Seeing the bite on John's arm, they decided it had been some kind of rabid animal. Several painful shots later, John had only a white bandage and some stitches to show for the encounter. Four weeks later, those were gone and John had all but forgotten the event.

The night of the full moon, however, brought it all back with clarity. They were staying at a chateau of some bigwig or other, and John had nearly destroyed an entire floor before he was subdued. Luckily, their host was an avid hunter who enjoyed the sport more than the kill, and so had plenty of tranquilizer guns on hand.

The wolf who was John had been secured in what used to be the chateau's wine cellar to await morning and removal by local authorities. No one could understand how a wolf had gotten into the building, let alone onto the third floor, without anyone noticing, but that was a matter for daylight. It was only when Jack realized he hadn't seen John in all the commotion that he started to wonder. Unable to find his friend anywhere, he'd gone down to watch the wolf sleep, and to think.

He was only slightly surprised to find that once the moon set, the wolf's form twisted and transformed, leaving a sleeping but unscathed John Sheppard. He'd snuck the other man back upstairs, then put in a call to a professor friend of his, Dr. Daniel Jackson, who specialized in mythology and legends. Within an hour, he had all he ever wanted to know about werewolves, and more.

Since that time, anytime John was visiting or nearby Jack during the full moon, the latter would help him find a secure place where he could wait out the transformation without hurting anyone.

Closing the last lock, Jack looked up at his friend. He jerked back, startled. John had cut it closer than they'd realized, and already his eyes were losing their humanity. Jack moved to the stairs.

Before starting up them, he said, "I'll be back in the morning."

John's head snapped up at Jack's voice, and he bared his teeth in a feral grin. "Go!" he growled, his voice deeper and harsher than normal.

Jack left.

* * *

Elizabeth paced her den, a secure attic room, waiting for the transformation to begin. She restlessly ran a hand along one reinforced wall. The door was reinforced steel and the room was soundproof. She'd had the work done by three different contractors, and had gotten permits for none of it. As careful as she'd been, however, she still worried sometimes that people would talk. And in city like Washington, such talk could be ruinous. 

This room had been her safe spot for the past three years, ever since the disastrous camping trip in California with her boyfriend Simon. The boyfriend hadn't lasted, but the lycanthropy had.

She stopped at the door, making sure once again that it was locked. She knew that as a werewolf she didn't have the mental awareness to open locks, but she had still ensured that every one of them required an opposable thumb to open.

Her skin began to feel tight, and she knew that the moon was starting to rise. Raising her voice in a primal howl, she let the wolf take her.

* * *

The man surveyed his collection, pausing at a cage every now and then before moving on. The werecats weren't quite right for tonight. While they were excellent hunters, tonight he didn't need anyone brought down. No, tonight he needed a tracker. Yes, that was it. 

He narrowed in on the third cage from the end, where a young woman sat shivering and naked on a bed of straw. She stared out at him with inhuman eyes.

"Now, my pet, don't worry. Tonight you get to leave your home, if only for a little while." As he spoke, he reached into a bag hanging from the door of the cage and removed a bracelet. Opening the door, he grasped her wrist and pulled her out, clamping the bracelet on her as he did so.

Standing and in the full light, it was even more apparent that she wasn't human. Her facial features had an unusual cast, the nose out of proportion with the mouth, the eyes closer to the hairline than they would be on a normal human. Her limbs hung oddly, as if her joints were in the wrong place. But dressed and covered with a long coat, out of the light of day, she could pass. She had before, whenever he needed her. He'd had to pay a fortune to have her brought to this realm, but she was worth the price.

"Tonight, my pet," he said, stroking her forearm lightly, "I will need you to find someone for me. Two someones – werewolves both. Find them for me, and return before daylight." His caress suddenly became a crushing grip. "If you do not, my sweet, I will use the bracelet." As he spoke, he used the hand not holding the girl to lightly touch a small metal box at his waist.

For the first time the otherworldly girl showed emotion. Her face twisted in fear and pain, and her arm jerked in his grasp. He touched the box again, and her expression smoothed into an unreadable mask once again. The man smiled at her, a kind, gentle, fatherly smile, then patted her arm once and let go. He pointed her towards the room at the end of the hall, where a kept a wardrobe full of clothes for his pets, and once she'd left to dress and begin her task, he turned away, forgetting her.

Soon he would know where to find his wolves. Until then, he would occupy himself with planning.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer etc. in first chapter.

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews all! I hope I don't lose you with the next chapter though...

* * *

When John came to the next morning, it was apparent Jack was already back. A pile of clean clothes and a key to his chains were set at his feet, although Jack himself was nowhere insight. Grateful for the privacy, John tried to fully reclaim his humanity as he dressed. He would be on edge until the weekend had passed, but at least he felt as if he wouldn't be a danger in public.

Jack looked up from his seat at the table when John entered the kitchen. "Okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," John replied. "Did I disturb anybody?"

Jack looked faintly amused. "My deaf neighbor came by to ask when I got a dog."

John winced. "What did you tell her?"

Jack shrugged. "The truth." At John's panicked expression he laughed. "I'm looking after him for a friend, and he'd be gone after the weekend."

John laughed at that. Jack gestured to the microwave. "Made you an omelette," he said.

"Secret recipe?" John asked, pulling the plate out and joining Jack at the table.

"Of course."

Later that day, John entertained himself wandering the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum. At first, he had fun seeing the old planes, but soon it became a little depressing. All these aircraft, and he wasn't allowed to fly _any_ of them.

Giving up the museum as too tame, he went outside to wander the Mall. His natural restless energy combined with the animalistic energy of the werewolf made him antsy. He bounced as he walked along, wandering in the direction of the Lincoln Memorial.

He'd just reached the edge of the reflecting pool when a distraction presented itself in the form of the woman from the White House lobby.

* * *

Elizabeth always craved fresh air after a night in the den, and she often came to walk along the reflecting pool the next morning. Today, she hoped the water would help sooth away the sting of yesterday's meeting as well.

She'd been sitting there maybe half an hour when she felt it. The scent, or whatever it was, was exactly the same as it had been the day before, only stronger. She looked up, glancing both ways, until she saw him, standing to her right, watching her.

As she looked, he seemed to make a decision. He moved toward her, not stopping until he towered over her. She said nothing, waiting to see what he would do, and somewhat afraid of the intensity of whatever it was between them.

He seemed to be aware of it as well, his eyes burning into hers. Then he blinked, and the intensity lessened somehow. He grinned boyishly and dropped down to sit next to her. "Hi," he said.

"Hello," she replied cautiously. Connection or not, he was a strange man, and one could never be too careful.

"So... I saw you at the White House yesterday," he remarked conversationally. "You looked pretty pissed."

"I'd had a bad meeting," she said.

"Oh." Then, perhaps because he had been thinking about his own problem, perhaps just because she seemed so collected now and he wanted to get a rise out of her, he added, "I thought it might be a monthly issue."

Startled, it took Elizabeth a minute to realize he referred not to her being a werewolf, but to her being a woman. After the disastrous meeting yesterday, this was too much. She stood, tightening her lips and rolling her eyes in exasperation, and started to make her way further along the pool.

"Wait!" he called out. She couldn't leave! He needed to know what this thing between them meant. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that!"

She turned back to him, and wished she hadn't. He was grinning again, sheepishly this time, and looking up at her with puppy-dog eyes. On a grown man it should have looked ridiculous, but instead it seemed entirely too appealing.

Seeing that she wasn't going to leave right away, he continued with his apology. "See, I know you don't say that to a woman. God, I've had enough ex-girlfriends to know that. But sometimes I don't think before I act, which is probably why I'm in trouble so often, and..."

Elizabeth decided to put him out of his misery. "Enough!" she said, laughing. "I get it. You didn't mean it and won't say it again." Leveling a stern glance at him, she added, "Ever."

As she dropped back down beside him, she thought that it wasn't such a wrong statement, anyway. Yes, she had been distracted and upset by a monthly problem, just not the one he was thinking of.

The man beside her stretched out a hand. "I'm John, by the way. Colonel John Sheppard."

Elizabeth guessed by the way he stressed his rank that it was fairly new. Still, if they were going to haul out the credentials – "Dr. Elizabeth Weir." They shook.

Pleasantries out of the way, John said, "So, Liz, do you live in Washington?"

At the nickname Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. "Liz?" No one had called her that since elementary school, when she decided that she'd be taken more seriously using her full name.

"Not Liz?"

She shook her head. "Never Liz."

"Lizzie? Beth? Betsy? Betty? Liza?" With each nickname, Elizabeth felt a smile growing on her face.

"It's Elizabeth, or if you can't handle that, Dr. Weir."

John quirked the side of his mouth up, then asked again, "So, Dr. Elizabeth Weir, do you live in Washington?"

She told him she did, and they talked for several minutes about her impressions of the city, before John suggested they get some coffee. Elizabeth thought about it for a few seconds. He was military, and that should have bothered her. But she couldn't deny this strange connection between them, and his charm attracted her, so she surprised herself by saying yes.

As they wandered off towards the Washington Monument, neither of them noticed the man standing across the reflecting pool, watching them.

* * *

There they were. His prey. And by some twist of luck, together. That surprised him momentarily – from what he knew of the female she wasn't the type to latch on to a stranger. But it had been a while since he'd last observed her; so perhaps she'd changed.

He hadn't been able to hear any of their conversation, but based on looks alone he wouldn't have any problems with this capture. The female was essentially non-violent, and while the male looked physically fit he had a carefree and careless nature about him. The man believed that this would make it relatively easy to surprise him.

Yes, to capture them tonight, shortly before moonrise, would be best. Then he could secure them in time to see how magnificent they would become. If he was lucky, they would stay together until that time; if not, he would follow the male. He could always break into the female's house later.

Tonight, his collection would be complete.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimers etc. in first chapter.

Author's Note: This one's pretty short, but I really wanted to end it where I did. The next one's not all that much longer, but I make up for it a bit in the last chapter! The end of this chapter is where my brain took a left turn I wasn't expecting, so... um, yeah.

* * *

That was, John reflected, possibly one of the best afternoons of his life. He and Elizabeth had bought coffee from a kiosk and spent the entire time walking up and down the Mall, talking. John was fascinated by her – even her adamant anti-military stance intrigued him, although he felt duty bound to try to change her point of view. He hadn't managed to broach the subject of their strange connection, although from the way she sometimes looked at him he was almost positive she felt it too. 

He replayed the day in his head as he walked from the Metro stop towards Jack's house. She'd refused to give him her number, but they had agreed to meet the next day. He was nearly on Jack's steps when he stopped suddenly.

"Oh, shit," he muttered, fishing out his cell phone and scrolling through the phone book. What was her name? Joanne, Julia, J-something... Jenna! There it was! He'd completely forgotten about their lunch plans, and while he wasn't the least bit interested in her anymore (and how had that happened? He'd never been this wrapped up by one afternoon with one woman, at least one that didn't include sex) it bothered him to think of any woman being angry with him.

Distracted by the phone call he was about to make, he didn't hear the tell-tale sounds until it was too late. The tranquilizer dart struck home, and John fell heavily to the ground. As consciousness began to fade, he focused on the work boots that were approaching him, and thought that Jack would never let him live this down.

* * *

The man surveyed the steel door barring access to the attic. He'd gotten into the house easily enough, and none of the neighbors had remarked on his presence. But this door was something of an obstacle. She'd somehow had it installed without his knowing. And it appeared that all locks were on the inside.

Checking his watch, he judged that he still had a few moments before moonrise. He doubted much sound could penetrate the doors and walls of her attic room, but if her senses had heightened as the change began, she'd likely be able to hear him knock. If he was extremely lucky, there would still be enough of the human there to unlock the door.

Raising his hand, he banged once, twice, three times on the door, then called out, "Elizabeth!"

He waited a few seconds and was about to knock again when the door swung open and she looked out. Her eyes had already shifted, and she growled a question. "What the hell...?"

She didn't get to finish as he plunged the dart into her side. Her eyes went wide with shock, and then she dropped heavily at his feet.

* * *

Elizabeth woke with a pounding headache, and the feeling that she was forgetting something. The latter was normal – she could never remember what happened when she was a wolf – but the headache was different. She felt drugged and sluggish as well.

She heard a groan, and thought it must be herself, until she realized that it was coming from across the room. It took a monumental effort to raise her head, but when she finally did, she gasped.

"What the hell?" she exclaimed, unconsciously echoing her words of the night before.

At her voice, John Sheppard looked up from his place opposite her. His eyes widened in shock, and he jerked forward. Brought up short by the chains on his arms and legs, he winced in pain.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, incredulous. She sure as hell wasn't supposed to be in Jack O'Neill's basement. As soon as he had the thought, he realized he wasn't there either. He became uncomfortably aware of itchy straw beneath his naked backside about a second and a half before he became uncomfortably aware that he was _naked_.

From the expression on Elizabeth's face, she was reaching the same realizations about herself. She quickly hunched over, trying to protect herself from sight. Normally, John would have been quite interested in this turn of events, but somehow this didn't seem the time.

John looked around, attempting to get his bearings. They were in what appeared to be a large cage in an almost empty room. There were no windows, no way to tell the time of day, and the only door was at the opposite end of the room. Their cage took up the back half of the room, and along one wall was what appeared to be an old fashioned wardrobe.

"What's going on?" Elizabeth asked in a quiet voice.

John shook his head. "I don't know. I don't remember anything after walking home last night. What about you?"

"I was... in my attic, I think, and then... nothing."

The door to the room opened, and a man walked through. "That's an aftereffect of the tranquilizer, I'm afraid," he said in a gentle, quiet voice. "As for what's going on, well, I've collected you!"

John started to shout. "What do you mean you've – "

Elizabeth cut him off, staring at the man in shock. "Simon!"


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimers etc. in the first chapter.

Author's Note: Sorry about the cliffhanger... sorta. :D Oh, and let me just say one thing here: I don't mind Simon. I have no great dislike of him. So as to why he had to be the bad guy... I don't know. My brain is just twisted, I guess.

Sorry it's another short chapter, but tomorrow's (the last one) is more than twice as long.

* * *

Simon had ignored all of Elizabeth's demands for explanations and John's angry threats to do bodily harm if they weren't set free, and simply smiled at them before leaving. Now they both sat in silence. John had attempted to pry some information out of Elizabeth, but she had ignored him, staring at the straw beneath her with frown lines creasing her forehead. 

Deciding he couldn't just stare at her, John had begun quietly testing his bonds. They were strong, too strong for him to break even if wolf form. The locks on the chains would be easily picked – if he could have reached them and if he had anything to pick them with. The lock on the cage door itself was another matter, however, and who knew what was beyond the outer door. He found himself wishing for Jack's company; at least then he'd be entertained as they tried to escape. Then again, it was probably best that Jack wasn't here. When John hadn't come home last night, the older man was sure to have started an immediate search. He was probably their best hope of escape now.

"We used to date," Elizabeth said quietly. John snapped out of his thoughts and turned to her.

"I dated him," she repeated, "about three years ago. We broke up after the camping trip when I... when things changed."

"Was he always psycho?" John asked.

Elizabeth frowned. "No. At least, I don't think so."

"So what does he want with us?"

Her frown deepened. "He said he collected us."

"Yeah, heard that. What does it mean?"

"Simon's a doctor, but he had a hobby of entomology when he was younger. He used to collect all sorts of bugs, everywhere we went. Just before we broke up, he'd started collected larger animals, frogs and such."

"So, what, now he's moved on to people? Why'd he collect us?"

"I don't know. It seems strange."

"Ya think?" John raised both eyebrows.

She smiled slightly at that. "He always wanted a male and a female of each animal, matched sets, so I guess that's why both you and me. But if he wanted me, why not take me earlier?"

John shrugged. "Maybe it was seeing you with me," he hypothesized.

She shook her head. "If it was seeing me with another guy, he would have acted before now." At John's raised eyebrow she continued. "I've dated some in the past couple of years," she said defensively.

"Okay, so if not because he saw me with you, why? What makes us a matched set?"

Now it was Elizabeth's turn to shrug. "I don't know. Anything unusual about you?"

"Other than my irresistible charm?" She raised an eyebrow. "Not much," he said.

"Me either. Maybe..." She hated to suggest this; she didn't like opening her life to strangers. "Maybe we should tell each other a little about ourselves, see if anything turns up?"

John contemplated making some flirtatious comment about her wanting to know all about him, but thought better of it when he saw her expression. He thought about her suggestion for a moment. As much as he hated talking about his past, he couldn't really see any other useful way to occupy the time. Planning an escape would be almost impossible at this time; he needed more information. Maybe figuring out why her ex-boyfriend had kidnapped them would give him something to use later.

"Okay," he said.

* * *

They spoke hesitantly at first, comparing life experiences, from childhood illnesses and family vacations to favorite books and colors. Elizabeth had apparently decided to pull out all the stops, and he caught her blushing from time to time as she described some youthful prank. He returned the favor, reluctantly at first. But he soon noticed that even when he revealed some of the more painful moments of his past, she simply listened. There was never a hint of pity on her face, and he realized that among her many other attributes, Elizabeth was a superb listener. He kept secret only his black ops missions and his werewolf alter ego.

They talked for what seemed to be hours, although with no window to let in daylight it was hard to judge the passage of time. They still hadn't hit upon what might have made Simon choose them, and from the hunger gnawing in John's stomach, he guessed that enough hours must have passed to make moonrise approaching. He felt grateful that Elizabeth was chained out of reach; if he became a wolf this hungry, he'd probably try his best to make her dinner.

Speaking of which (the wolf, that is, not dinner) he was getting close to no more secrets to share. He thought about it briefly, then decided that if this wasn't it, it didn't really matter since it wouldn't be secret in another few hours anyway. So, when Elizabeth finished telling him about a snowball fight with her brothers last Christmas, he spoke up.

"I'm a werewolf. What about you?"


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimers etc. in chapter 1

Author's Note: Well, here it is - last chapter. I was a little disappointed with it, but I wrote the whole story in a few hours one afternoon, so I guess I shouldn't expect it to be wonderful. Still, I present it to you. Oh, and once again, I don't know why the bad guy had to be Simon - I really don't hate him or anything.

Thank you to everyone for your reviews - I get so excited when I get an email from I'm definitely hooked on this fic thing now. :D

* * *

Elizabeth stared at John in shock. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She'd dragged out every embarrassing story from her life, paraded them in front of this stranger, and completely avoided the topic of her camping trip with Simon and the werewolf bite that changed her life forever, and then he blurted that out? 

Well, if he could be matter of fact about it, so could she. "Yeah, me too," she said.

Now it was John's turn to be shocked. He hadn't really expected a positive answer. In fact, he'd almost expected her to laugh at him, treat it like a joke. "Oh," he said. Then, gathering his wits, he added, "I guess that's why we're a matched set, then."

"Yes," Elizabeth said, watching him warily.

They stared at each other for a few minutes, and the connection, the electricity, whatever it was between them, suddenly flared up. It had faded into the background as they spoke, but with their silence in redoubled in force. Elizabeth drew in a sharp breath, and John's eyes widened.

"So that explains the..." he trailed off.

"You feel it too?"

He nodded. "Since the lobby, day before yesterday."

"Me too." They were whispering now, as if afraid to disturb the air between them.

John was suddenly reminded of how naked they both were, and he shifted uncomfortably on the straw. Now was not the time to notice how good she looked, especially when he couldn't really hide his reaction.

Her gaze dropped briefly from his, down his body, and then snapped back to his eyes. The silence stretched, became awkward, and he was about to speak, to say anything to break it, when the door opened again.

Simon entered, still smiling. "It's nearly moonrise, my pets," he said pleasantly.

John turned to look at him. Well, Simon's appearance took care of one problem, he thought as his attention left Elizabeth's body. But it t brought that whole "kidnapped-by-a-psycho" thing to the fore again. His movement attracted Simon's attention.

With a clinical gaze (hadn't Elizabeth said he was a doctor?) he assessed John's body. "Well, you certainly keep fit. Are you in politics, too? When do you find the time to work out? Elizabeth never did, as you can tell."

John refrained from stating that workouts or not, Elizabeth looked just fine to him, and settled for glaring at Simon.

Simon smiled back at him, then turned his attention to Elizabeth. "I'm going to unlock you now, okay? But don't think about trying anything – I have my other pet ready to stop you if you do."

For the first time, John noticed the girl – girl? – standing in the doorway. At first glance, she looked like any other blond young woman, but something struck John as odd, as if she were not entirely human. She wore a silver bracelet on one wrist and carried a dart gun in on hand.

He was vaguely aware of Elizabeth trying to reason with Simon in the background, but he kept his attention on the girl. She stared dully back. Was she a willing participant? Simon had called her his pet, but then he'd called Elizabeth and John that as well. If she didn't want to serve Simon, maybe she would help them. He tried to pour a message of hope into his eyes, wishing she would read it there, afraid that doing more, moving, would attract his captor's attention.

Her eyes widened slightly, and she glanced briefly at Simon's back, before returning her gaze to John's. _Yes_, he thought hope flaring briefly. Somehow he was getting through to her. He had to keep trying.

He probably would have succeeded if Elizabeth hadn't cried out just then in pain.

* * *

Elizabeth kept up a running monologue as Simon approached her, hoping to reach the man he had been when he was dating her. Once or twice, as she brought up events of their shared past, she thought he faltered. If only the old Simon would appear – she could probably try to negotiate better accommodations or something they could use to escape. Maybe he would do something careless enough to give herself or John an advantage. But every time she thought she saw a flicker of the old Simon, he disappeared just as quickly. 

Then she made the fatal mistake. She mentioned their camping trip, and how she wished things could have worked out after that. Simon was at her side in an instant.

"Yes," he said. "That's when I knew I had better things to collect. You were bitten by that _thing_, and suddenly I knew. There was a whole world of animals out there for me to collect, and no one had ever done so before. So I began to research. And did you know there are other wereanimals? I discovered secrets and stories. I started small – rats and hamsters and such. Can you imagine? Wererats and werehamsters! How lucky we are, living in a world where such things are possible! Then I moved on. I discovered that there were worlds out there, worlds we never knew about. I'd be the first to collect creatures from there, creatures like my pet back there.

But I always knew you'd be my crowning achievement. You would make my collection complete. I just had to wait until your match came along. One male, one female of each species. A perfectly complete set."

The look on his face told Elizabeth the Simon she knew was gone forever. Still, she couldn't help giving it one last try. "Simon, you don't have to – aah!" While she spoke he'd slipped a cuff over one wrist.

It burned! She clawed desperately at it with her other hand as Simon bent to unchain her legs. He looked up at her with pity in his eyes. "Silver, my pet. Very bad for werewolves, I'm told. Be good and I'll take it off once I get you in the other room."

Behind him John was lunging against his chains, growling. Elizabeth's cry of pain seemed to have sparked the wolf in him a bit early. Simon glanced uneasily at him, but spoke in that same maddeningly calm voice. "Don't worry, pet. I've got a separate cage for you, too."

At that, John redoubled his efforts. Elizabeth continued to pry at the cuff, trying to hold in the sobs that wanted to escape. This was worse than anything she'd ever experienced. She would die if it didn't stop!

A sudden weight against her leg made her look up. The girl by the door had moved closer, stopping just outside the cage. Looking down, Elizabeth noticed Simon crumpled at her feet, a tufted dart sticking out of his rear end.

John had stopped growling and was watching the girl warily. She moved into the cage slightly, reaching for Simon's pockets. She came up with a key, and moved towards John's chains.

"No," he growled. She stopped, startled. "Leave them." She nodded and turned to Elizabeth, who was gripping her wrist as tears of pain trailed down her face.

"Don't unlock her!" John barked out. "Just get the damn bracelet off!" The girl nodded again, and pried the cuff off. Dropping to her knees, Elizabeth gasped in relief, then looked up at him.

He noticed that her pupils had dilated. He could see the humanity slowly draining out of her, and he knew the same thing was happening to him.

The girl with the key looked down at Elizabeth's bracelet, then at her own. She seemed to think about it for a moment, then began to pry the silver circle from her own arm. Finally she held both of them in one palm, contemplating them. Suddenly, she threw them violently across the room.

She started to leave, but halted at John's command. "Take him," he said, nodding at Simon's prone body. He was hungry, starving even, but there was still enough of a man in him not to want to eat a fellow human being. If Simon stayed in the cage, he knew he and Elizabeth would tear e "Lock him up. Then shut the door, and don't come back until morning."

The girl slipped back into the cage and grasped Simon's body by one ankle. Dragging him as effortlessly as if he were an empty cloth sack, she pulled him out and shut the cage door behind her. At the door to the room, she paused and looked back once, before closing it and locking them in.

In front of him, Elizabeth was nearly entirely wolf now. John could sense that he was the same. He kept his eyes glued to hers as his last shred of humanity slipped away.

* * *

When John awoke the next morning, he knew instantly that he wasn't alone. He turned his head on the straw and saw Elizabeth staring back at him. 

"Morning," he whispered.

"Morning," she replied.

"Yeah, morning," a third voice said, and at that John looked up.

Jack O'Neill stood outside their cage, grinning back at them. "So," he drawled. "I take it she's the reason you've been AWOL these last few nights?"

Elizabeth seemed about to retort to that, when she realized that she was still naked. Instead she burrowed into the straw. Let John deal with this.

"Not exactly," John replied, glancing over at her and thinking that he wished that were true.

"I suppose the 'exactly' involves those people who were locked in cages out there, and the unconscious guy this one wouldn't let us free?"

It was then that John noticed the otherworldly girl standing quietly behind Jack. She stepped forward, handing Jack a key, and the older man proceeded to undo their restraints. He continued speaking as he did so.

"Yeah, she wouldn't let anyone near that cage, and then local law enforcement showed up. Turns out he's wanted for three murders in Virginia. He sucks at covering his tracks – it was easy enough to find you two."

As he finished talking, he opened the last of Elizabeth's chains. Sticking out his hand, he introduced himself. "Jack O'Neill."

Elizabeth stared up at him. She was lying here buck naked in the middle of a cage and he wanted to _shake hands_? The absurdity of the situation struck her, and she burst into hysterical laughter.

"I'm... I'm sorry," she gasped when she finally finished. She gave Jack her hand. "Elizabeth Weir."

Jack smiled at her, and Elizabeth realized that despite his grey hair, he was still a very attractive man. Then John shifted slightly, drawing her attention, and she decided that attractive or not, Jack O'Neill couldn't hold a candle to John Sheppard. She was stuck stark naked in a room with two attractive men, she thought, and she blushed.

Jack seemed to understand the reason for the blush. "I was poking around earlier, waiting for you guys to wake up, and found some clothes in that closet thing there," he said, gesturing to the wardrobe. "I'll leave you two alone to get dressed, and then we'll talk." When John's stomach growled, Jack grinned. "And eat." With that, he let himself out, closing the door firmly behind him.

Elizabeth avoided John's eyes as they made their way over to the wardrobe. It contained a selection of men's and women's clothing, including underwear and bras. Nothing was in her size, Elizabeth noted. Their own clothing was nowhere to be found, however, so they made do as best they could.

The bra was a bit too small and the pants a bit too loose, but all in all it wasn't bad, Elizabeth thought as she buttoned up her shirt. She looked up a John, who was pulling a sweatshirt over his head.

"So," she said.

"So," he replied.

She looked back at the cage, and shivered slightly, then turned to face John again. "It's over."

_No_, he thought, as he looked into her eyes –eyes of the only other werewolf he'd ever met, eyes that called to him – and took her hand in his as they walked from the room. _It's just beginning_.

* * *

Author's Note 2: Yeah, so I feel like it's a bit anticlimactic, but I couldn't figure out how to fix it right away, so I just... didn't. Maybe I'll go back sometime and work on it, but in the mean time, I've got another fic burning away in my head, and I'm going to work on that. I won't post it until it's all done, though, so don't hold your breath. However - snippits might appear in my LJ - username "lamichelle" 


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